|
Plastic Bag
Forever is lasting forever.
Long shallow trips into
the curve of concentration
which reveals
naked wires.
Out of body nothing.
I collect my toys and go home.
I am not playing with you any-more.
Leave me alone, don't talk to me.
I am the shadow that hurts you in the light.
I am the pain that calls you from the mind.
Sweating worry builds
until it
gathers the morons for another
chance at salvation.
At redemption.
At unfilled judgements
dreadful in expiry.
I will fall into the gloom and shatter every
picture I encounter.
Yesterday a shape emerged
from the debris of animation.
And it called out to me.
I answered in monotones of disgust.
I will not play this game any-more.
Of cleaning the house and shipping out
images of a life I am supposed to be
having
It is death, you see,
these traps that have been set for me.
Once I spoke in terms of being me.
Yet, the demented voices demanded that
to conform one must submerge.
Be emptied.
Be shallow.
"How are you?"
"Well I am fine"
Please, no more empty stupid phrases that
collect like weeds.
Clogging hope.
Dampening ambition.
Play along.
Stand still and let the waves of iron
sponge across your sentiments.
Enclose you.
Trap your hope.
Die a death that denies a coffin.
I rip open the plastic bag
that has been wrapped around me.
Vote for this poem
Plastic Bag
|
|
|
|
©2000 - 2022, Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors. Visit My Home Page | Start Your Own Poetry Site | PoetryPoem [ Control Panel ] [ Today's Poetry - ALL Poets ] [ Search ]
| |
|